


a few suggestions

by loafers



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band), One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-20
Updated: 2013-04-20
Packaged: 2017-12-09 00:13:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/767732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loafers/pseuds/loafers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>@Michael5SOS Room to myself... Dunno what to do lol<br/>@Michael5SOS What are you meant to do in a room on your own..</p><p>Harry has a few suggestions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a few suggestions

**Author's Note:**

> fandom fads are fun ^_^

It does take a second tweet before there’s a knock at Michael’s blessedly empty hotel room door. He opens it and Harry’s standing there, grinning like an idiot, hair hastily jammed under a beanie, his hands hidden in the sleeves of his giant jumper, which hangs down long enough so that Michael can only just make out that he is indeed wearing something underneath, and then he’s just long, skinny legs and bare feet. 

“Room to yourself, huh?” Harry says and waggles his eyebrows.

Michael rolls his eyes and lets him into the room. Harry walks in like he owns the place, like he couldn’t be more comfortable than in this, admittedly nice, hotel room with Michael in the middle of nowhere important. He flops down on Michael’s mussed bed, Michael closes the door and follows him. 

“I had some suggestions about what you could do with a room to yourself, but I didn’t think it was a good idea to tweet them,” Harry says slowly, his eyes very purposefully trailing down Michael’s body. 

Michael feels like he’s about to be eaten alive, but he often feels like that around Harry. It’s a strange thing to get used to, but he has, and further, he suspects he might like it a bit. Might like Harry, in general. 

Harry’s great. Michael had been a bit - not worried, but guarded, not just with Harry, with all the One Direction boys, but it didn’t last long. They’re all great guys, but Harry especially is weird in this way that put Michael at ease pretty much straight away. He’s this super famous ridiculous boyband guy but he still looks at Michael like he’s worth just as much attention as the models and celebrities he’s usually with, and listens to Michael’s dumb stories from back home like they’re the most interesting thing he’s ever heard.

Being the focus of Harry’s attention is strange at first, just the sheer intensity of it, but Michael’s adjusted to it, made easier when he realised Harry is just as interested in kissing him as he is listening to him or staring at him or invading his personal space on various pieces of furniture - couches, beds, bus bunks. 

Since Cardiff when Harry had crawled in after him under a ping pong table chasing down a ping pong ball and kissed him to distract him from the humiliating defeat he was about to suffer, it’s been easier. Too easy to let Harry crowd him into corners backstage and linger behind with Harry when the others go to get lunch, to do as he says when Harry suggests they switch t-shirts before a show. It’s been easy, but it’s been hard too, both generally and literally, Michael’s often left with an apologetic look and stiff cock to deal with on his own, because they never get a moment alone, between sharing hotel rooms and how busy Harry is, there’s always someone around the corner to catch them.

That normally wouldn’t be that much of a deterrent, because Michael’s learnt quick what it’s like on tour, close quarters. He pretends that he doesn’t know what the others sound like when they come just like everyone else does, but. But okay, maybe he’s nervous. Which is stupid, but when Harry touches him, kisses him, he feels like he’s on the edge of going crazy, out of control, and he doesn’t want someone there to witness his humiliation if he loses it or comes in two seconds or, or, whatever might happen. 

So he’s a little nervous, now, with Harry alone in a hotel room with Ashton gone for at least a couple hours, guaranteed, but not enough to stop himself from collapsing down onto his bed next to where Harry’s sprawled out. 

“So you came to tell me your suggestions?” Michael asks.

“Hm, I did, but first, a tip,” Harry says consideringly. Michael raises his eyebrows. “If you’re looking for company, specific company, you shouldn’t troll twitter like that.”

“Is that so?”

“No, we could have Niall bashing on the door any second.”

Michael likes Niall, he wouldn’t mind Niall stopping by, really, but then Harry pulls off his jumper and drops it off the side of the bed, so Michael says, mouth dry, “Wouldn’t want that.”

Harry shakes his head solemnly. “You have so much to learn, my child.”

“My child?” Michael repeats, face screwed up in distaste. There’s only a two year age gap between them, though sometimes Michael really _does_ feel like a little kid compared to Harry and Harry’s life. He’s a tiny bit insecure about it, and probably Harry can pick up on it, from the way he smirks at him when he teases. “What, should I be calling you daddy?”

Michael says it like a joke, a laugh in his throat, but Harry just looks at him all too seriously and says, “If you want.”

“Uh,” Michael says.

Harry laughs, and leans up to grab Michael’s wrist, pulls at him until Michael scrambles a bit closer and collapses on top of him. “I can tell you my suggestions now,” Harry says, his hands warm under Michael’s t-shirt, sliding up his back, breath hot on Michael’s ear. Michael shivers. 

“You gonna whisper them to me?” Michael asks and tilts his head to the side, tries not to sigh too dreamily when Harry presses his warm lips to the skin just under his ear.

“Hm?” Harry hums, and Michael feels it in his throat, laughs breathily but then Harry opens his mouth a little, enough to let his teeth graze Michael’s skin, and Michael moans. He can’t help it, it’s taking all he has not to grab Harry’s head and hold him there until he’s left with a nice big bruise again.

Not that he needs to, it’s like Harry just knows, bites at Michael’s throat, draws the skin up between his teeth, sucking hard. It took them awhile to work up to this, Harry’s mouth gentle at first, but now it seems that they’ve done this enough that Harry just goes for it. Michael’s more than happy for Harry to leave marks, besides how good it feels, it’s a reminder that it’s real, that he hasn’t just dreamed Harry up.

Harry makes a little pleased noise as he pulls away, drags his mouth up the underside of Michael’s jaw, presses a kiss to his chin and then Michael can’t wait any longer, has to turn and catch Harry’s mouth with his own, kiss him hard, pressing him firmer down into the bed. Harry moans into it, his hands squeezing at Michael’s waist before they catch at the hem of his t-shirt, pulling at it not so hard that it’s pushy but enough to be an invitation, and Michael takes it, breaking the kiss to lean up and let Harry tug his t-shirt off over his head. 

Michael resists the urge to fuss with his hair and goes back in for more kissing instead, Harry’s hands all over him, Harry’s thighs spreading under him to let him in closer, their bodies pressed tight, from hip to chest. Michael doesn’t feel nervous, just feels good, even when Harry rocks his hips up and he can feel how hard he is. It’s not new, Michael’s felt him pressed against him like this before, but never when they could actually do something about it. 

“Alright?” Harry asks, breathing a little heavily against Michael’s mouth, his nails scratching lightly down Michael’s spine to press just under the waistband of Michael’s pants. 

“Yeah,” Michael gasps and Harry’s presses down, pulling his hips in tighter, lining them up so Michael can’t help rocking down against him.

Harry pushes up, gets them turned over, and Michael’s sad about the loss of the perfect pressure of Harry’s cock pressed against his but it’s nice like this, under Harry. Harry leans down and kisses Michael’s mouth, open and wet, the slide of Harry’s tongue against his making his toes curl.

Harry has one thigh slotted between Michael’s, pressed up tight against him, rocking forward just slightly. He holds himself up hovering over Michael, his hand sliding over Michael’s chest in the little space between them. Michael arches into his touch, wants more, curls his fingers in Harry’s hair and breaks the kiss, tilts his head to the side, offering up his neck for Harry’s mouth. 

Harry laughs but flicks his tongue against his skin, leans in to bite him quick and sharp and it’s not what Michael wanted, was after the steady, gentle pressure of Harry marking him nice and dark, but Harry has other ideas, licking his way down to Michael’s collarbone and setting his mouth there. 

Michael gasps when Harry sucks sharp at his skin, hard at first and then settling into a gentle pressure, leaning in to rub his thigh against Michael’s dick in rhythm with the pressure of his mouth. Michael feels breathless, his fist tightening in Harry’s hair, almost whines when Harry takes his mouth away with a hot rush of breath over his damp, tender skin. He knows he’s going to be bruised up something awful, but Harry’s pressing tiny biting kisses down his chest, so he doesn’t have the presence of mind to worry about it.

Harry licks at Michael’s nipple, eyes flicking up to meet Michael’s, and Michael just stares back, lips parted, panting softly, his eyes heavy lidded. Harry shifts further down Michael’s body, Michael’s thighs spreading seemingly of their own accord for Harry to settle between. It’s something, having Harry looking up eager and heated from between his thighs, leaning up to suck at the nipple he licked, hand slipping up Michael’s thigh. Harry kisses further down a little ways, and Michael feels more and more tense.

“Hey, Haz,” Michael gasps, breathless, and Harry’s answering hum against his belly makes his hips twitch. “I’ve never.”

Harry looks up, his mouth still pressed just beside Michael’s belly button. His eyes are bright and pretty, his face a little flushed, his hands on Michael’s hips, fingers curling under the waistband of his trackies and pants, grazing the sensitive skin underneath. “Not with a guy,” Michael clarifies, and feels a little stupid for it.

“Hm,” Harry says, and bites a little lower, just under Michael’s belly button, where he’s softest. Harry seems to enjoy it there, nuzzling into his soft belly, licking out and then setting his teeth over the bite again, sucking bright red onto Michael’s pale skin. Michael’s breathing picks up a bit, his hand settling in Harry’s hair, stroking. Harry leans into it, presses a kiss over the mark he’s left, says, “We don’t have to do anything.”

It seems like a ridiculous suggestion, Michael’s really hard, and it’s obvious, the shape of him through the soft fabric of his trackies, but Harry’s kept carefully clear of touching him even though he’s practically face level with the thing by now. “I’d like to, though,” Harry says, bottom lip dragging against Michael’s spit damp skin, “Really wanna blow you.” 

Michael’s stomach muscles jump just at the suggestion, like the words suddenly make the presence of Harry’s mouth against his skin all too overwhelmingly hot. “Yeah,” Michael says breathlessly, and Harry smiles. “Yeah, I want that.”

“You don’t have to, like,” Harry says as he curls his fingers in Michael’s waistband with more purpose, ducks to scrape his teeth over Michael’s hipbone, sucking a kiss there when Michael gasps and arches into it. Not one to mark this time, though, he quickly moves to the skin revealed as he eases Michael’s pants lower. Michael’s never had anyone take this much time with a blowjob before, or maybe he’s just never let someone. “Don’t have to do it too,” Harry mumbles, licking low, a wide wet stripe across the sensitive skin just above his groin, from hipbone to hipbone, and Michael shivers, lets his eyes slip shut for a second. 

Only a second, because he doesn’t want to miss a moment of it, the soft look on Harry’s face as he lifts the waistband enough to reach in and pull his cock out. Michael breathes in harshly at the shock of pleasure, just from being touched, maybe from the anticipation too, he’s so hard, fat and red, shiny at the tip. 

Harry looks up at him one more time, like he wants to make sure Michael’s watching, and Michael feels like he should give him some word of encouragement, some assurance that what he’s doing is ok, but he’s at a bit of a loss. Harry’s licking his lips and Michael can’t make words come out of his mouth, so he just scratches at Harry’s scalp, and it’s enough, apparently, because it makes Harry smile and lean in. 

Harry holds Michael’s cock in his hand surprisingly delicately, his fingers at the base holding him still as he licks at the head, swirls his tongue around it like it’s something delicious, something he wants a proper taste of. It looks insane to Michael, Harry’s mouth on his dick, he’s never going to be able to look at either the same again. It’s just so hot, and Michael’s trying so hard to keep himself still, to stop himself from humping Harry’s face and choking him so early in the game. 

It feels so good, Harry’s tongue, sliding slick a little further down the underside, pressing firm against him, getting him all wet, wet enough so that it’s nice and easy when Harry wraps his hand around him to jerk him while he gets his lips back on the head. 

“You always this much of a tease,” Michael mutters before he can stop himself, his cock twitching, bumping against Harry’s mouth. 

Harry laughs, which only makes it worse, or better, god, and presses a wet, open mouthed kiss to the fat head of his cock. “Only if I really like you,” Harry says, voice deep and rough, breath hot against him and then, thank god, Michael doesn’t have a second to process Harry’s reply because Harry’s opening his mouth, taking him in, moaning. 

“Shit,” Michael says, head dropping back against the pillow. Harry laughs again, Michael’s hips jerking up from the feel of it, and Harry lets it happen, takes him deeper in the wet heat of his mouth, not too far but sucking hard enough that Michael moans, loud and stupid, his fingers curling tighter in Harry’s hair.

Harry bobs a few times, pulls off, lingers at the head to flick his tongue against him, smiling filthily up at Michael before he takes over with his hand, jacking the length of him while he turns to bite sharp at Michael’s thigh, making him gasp. “Can’t go deep, gotta sing,” Harry says, sounding remorseful, like anything could be sad. Michael doesn’t think he’ll ever be sad again.

“It’s ok,” Michael chokes out. 

“Your face, man,” Harry laughs. He’s still stroking Michael’s cock. It’s kind of a confusing experience to be laughed at and jerked off at the same time. 

“Shut up and suck my cock, Styles,” Michael growls, smiling, and tugs Harry back down, thrusting his hips up. Harry laughs and licks at the shiny red tip of Michael’s cock peeking out the circle of his fist, jerks just the top inch or so and ducks down to mouth at his balls as the slick motion of his hand picks up, tightens. 

“Where d’you want it?” Harry slurs, his lips pressed to the base of Michael’s cock, sucking hard. “On my face? You can come on my face, if you want,” he says as he drags his tongue back up the underside of Michael’s cock, fist at the base now, smiling as he sucks at the head, tongue flicking against his slit.

“Fuck,” Michael groans, helpless, tugging at Harry’s hair without meaning too, there’s just so much tension built up in him now, he can’t help it, but Harry groans when he does it anyway, takes his cock into his mouth again, the tight ring of his lips sliding up and down, dipping down dangerously far like he’s too greedy to stop himself, so Michael harnesses what little sense that hasn’t melted out his ears and yanks at Harry’s hair, pulls him back a bit. Harry gasps, pulls off, staring up at Michael with a dazed look in his eyes before he goes back at him, mouthing spit messy and hungry down the length of his cock. “Wanna fuck your mouth,” Michael groans.

“Yeah,” Harry moans, lapping at his balls, “Me too, want that too,” and Michael can picture it all too easy, how soft and pliant Harry would be, how he’d just let him, can feel it in the way Harry goes from his hand in his hair, how he’d just stay still and open up and let Michael fuck his throat as hard as he wanted. Michael groans, and Harry wraps his hand firm around him, jerks him quick, like he can tell how close Michael is. 

And Harry asked him a question, but Michael’s not sure how to answer. How’s he supposed to choose, no one’s ever asked him where he’d like to come before. But, “Your mouth,” Michael gasps, tugging at Harry’s hair to pull him up from where he’s sucking at his balls, which is great, fantastic, but he’s close to the end now, can feel it curling tense in him. “Wanna come in your mouth,” he says, and Harry’s there, tongue out, soft, red lips catching at the head of Michael’s cock as he jerks him.

“Yeah,” Harry moans, licking his lips, like he’s waiting for it, eager for it. “Gonna swallow it for you,” he says, and that’s it, Michael jerks, gasps, thighs clenching as he releases hot spurts of come across Harry’s mouth and chin, Harry eagerly darting in to seal his lips over the tip of his cock, catch it all, sucking gently through the end of it, Michael’s cock twitching on his tongue.

Harry swallows, as promised, and Michael tries to breathe. Harry sits up, wipes his face with his hand and shoves it down his pants. 

“Hazza, come on,” Michael says breathlessly, reaching for him. Harry collapses onto him with a grateful sound, pushing his cock against Michael’s hip, nuzzling into his throat, open mouth against the marked skin there, his own earlier handiwork. 

It’s a bit awkward, Michael nudging his face against Harry’s until Harry will turn and kiss him like he wants, but he does, moaning and curling his fingers into Michael’s hair. He pushes his tongue into Michael’s mouth like he wants Michael to taste it. Michael takes it, sucks at Harry’s tongue, mouths pressed together open wide and eager, embarrassingly messy, but Harry doesn’t seem to mind at all, only whimpers, gasps out, “Michael, please.” 

And Michael’s never jerked another guy off before but he doesn’t feel anything but turned on when he gets his hand on Harry’s cock, wraps his fingers tight around him and gives him what he needs. The way Harry’s hips rock into his hand is on the verge of frantic, but he kisses Michael soft and sweet, moaning into his mouth, and Michael feels accomplished when Harry comes, gasping happily as Harry buries his face in Michael’s neck and bites hard, groaning. 

Harry licks over the bite like an apology, breathes hard against Michael’s skin. Michael wipes Harry’s come on the leg of his trackies.

“Just for the record,” Harry says, raising his head to look at Michael. His voice rough and low, his mouth red. “I pretty much always have a room to myself.” 

Michael laughs, and Harry smiles and nuzzles in under his jaw, wraps his arms and legs around Michael like a snuggly octopus. Michael’s never much cared for sea life but Harry’s imitation feels really nice. “I’ll keep that in mind,” Michael says, Harry’s curls in his face.

“And next time you wanna fool around just text me,” Harry mumbles, sounds half asleep already, and Michael should make him go or, or put some clothes on or something, because Ashton’s going to be back soon, surely, and the room reeks of sex and Michael’s still got his cock out. But Harry is very comfortable, feels warm and nice against Michael, so Michael makes an executive decision and kicks at the sheets until he can get his hand on them and tug them up over their bodies.

Harry hums gratefully, shifts, stretching out more on top of Michael, like Michael is just another part of the mattress. “Don’t usually go to sleep this early,” Harry mumbles, rubbing his nose against Michael’s shoulder. “Just for a bit, then I’ll go, yeah?”

“Sure,” Michael agrees. 

Harry stays all night.


End file.
